the fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the cabin walls. ellie sat cross-legged on the worn couch, her guitar resting idly against her knee. she had been strumming earlier, the soft chords filling the quiet between your conversation, but now her focus was entirely on you. her green eyes lingered on your arm as you absentmindedly traced the edge of your tattoo, the ink dark against your skin.

“okay, so… spill it,” ellie said suddenly, her voice light but curious. she tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowed in thought. “like, i get the whole ‘mysterious loner’ thing—kinda badass—but i gotta know. where’d you come from? like, what’s your story?”

she leaned back, her expression caught somewhere between playful intrigue and genuine interest. her fingers tapped a lazy rhythm on the guitar, but her gaze stayed on you, flicking occasionally to your visible scars and then back to the swirling ink on your forearm.

“and don’t gimme some generic ‘oh, you know, just surviving’ answer,” she added, her lips quirking into a crooked grin. she hesitated for a beat, her voice softening. “i mean… if you feel like sharing.”

ellie shifted forward, elbows resting on her knees now, completely hooked on whatever you might say.